


Another Lost Thing

by paperskythewry



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Childhood Nostalgia, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Karkat is a hopeless romantic, M/M, Multi, alcohol mention, as per fucking usual, everyone is sad, everyone is sad and gay, explicit discussion of death, marijuana reference, nautically themed bedrooms, nothing tops Tolkien, pizza pals, seaside diner waffles, seventeen porcelain clowns, shitty oc's, slowbuild, uh huh this my shit, you sure care a lot about boys running hands through their hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10002158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperskythewry/pseuds/paperskythewry
Summary: After his Papa dies, Eridan Ampora doesn't think anything in his life could possibly go right, but some exciting news sends him back to a place he thought had been lost in nostalgia. With new possibilities underway, there is plenty of room for disaster, especially where Sollux Captor is involved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, after a year of straight hiatus, look who decided to show up. You may notice a few changes to my line up, namely, that all my shit is fucking gone. That's right. If you've been subscribed for a while, you may remember other work of mine that has since been orphaned or deleted. You can still find my old fic Paperweighted somewhere on here, although it was never finished. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this new fic in the comments so I can keep writing more!

=====> Be the King of the Sea.

You think that there is possibly no greater place than the sea. You’ve always loved it here, since you were small. The feeling of salt on your skin or wind tearing through your hair. The shocking cold, and the way sunlight glinted off the ocean. You wonder why it’s been so damn long since you came back to this place.

Your name is Eridan Ampora, and your family owns a very much respectable and profitable fishery off the coast of Northern California, where you grew up. Nine months ago, this town was your beloved home, but lately, you have felt more and more distant, and not just because you have been going to University in a different state at your father’s request. However, you are satisfied to find that the sea still fills you with the same sense of comfort and wonder that this place once did. But your grandfather is dead, and now it is all different.

With a forceful tug of the wheel, you steer your grandfather’s beauty of a sailboat back in the direction of land, quite majestically if you do say so yourself. It’s not like you fancy yourself some kinda fearsome captain, because that is for immature pissbabies, but you suppose it is okay to indulge in pissbaby behavior every now and then. It’s probably good for you. Probably. You strike a little pose, lifting your boot to rest on the edge of the boat and placing your hands on your hips, staring out broodingly into the great beyond. Maybe you even imagine a great, gaudy buckle on your shoe, or a giant feathery cap on your head. It feels powerful, and for a moment, you feel brave enough to reckon with even your most fraught and forbidding feelings.

It was a long time coming you suppose. Your grandmother bit it when you were much younger, maybe seven or eight, you dunno, you’ll have to ask Father. In any case, it wasn’t as if you weren’t fully prepared for death in the family. You feel stupid, really, but it had happened so suddenly with Papa. With your grandmother, she had died properly, after a long time spent being frail and ill, in a hospital, surrounded by family. With Papa, it had happened on this very boat. A heart attack, they’d told you, the people who fished him out of the water. He’d fallen off the edge into the ocean. Deep, deep down into the mysterious fathoms of the Pacific.

It made you feel strange, because you hadn’t really said goodbye. That was the most painful part of it. You’d never really have closure, even if you knew the truth, (you’d been told a million times, hadn’t you?) some part of you would always secretly wonder whether it could have been wrong, whether Papa could be out there. You’d never seen the body, and despite your hopes, you were fairly certain you never would. He was just another lost thing.  
And one way or another, your papa was gone.

 

You shake yourself out of your daze and pull your foot down. That was ridiculous. Pulling up to shore, you anchor The Orphaner. It was an appropriate name for this ship, you were beginning to realize. Macabre, sure, but appropriate. Glancing around, you hope no one on the docks caught you indulging in your moment of youthful make-believe--you’d be mortified. Still, all seems to be in order, and when you are secure in knowing that no one was watching this display of footloose frivolity, you collect your things and head back up the boardwalk.

It is a crisp morning on the harbor. The usual company, seafarers, tourists, and worst of all, couples are trickling in more and more by the minute. The cawing of gulls choruses overhead, and you are instantly assailed by the wafting scent of shellfish and fairgood, which combine into a perplexing, but nostalgic aroma.

You head towards town.  
Your step-sister awaits.

* * *

 

 

The bell on the door of O’Callaghans chimes pleasantly as your enter into the fluorescent-lit hustle and bustle of afternoon diner atmosphere, and you instantly feel welcomed. There was always something about this place, and you now understand why your step-sister invited you here for lunch. She knew exactly what she was doing. This was a childhood favorite of yours. The warmth of the grills and the red cushioned seats at the wooden counter, the cream colored tiles and the cheeky signs strung around the walls with slogans like “out fishin’.” Black and white photos and vintage prints covered every surface in the damn place. It was homey like no other place you’d ever found in your college town. The whole place smelled like cigar smoke and freshly made waffles and it was perfect.

As you peer around the diner for your sister, a man pouring coffee gives you a once over from behind the counter. You could recognize that glass eye anywhere. That thinning grey hair and the slight stubble, that wide smile, and that slight tilt of his head in recognition, all belonged to Marcus O’Callaghan himself. That man had been wearing that apron and filling the stomachs of hungry fisherman for fifty long years.

“If it isn’t young Eridan Amp’ra!” O’Callaghan calls, setting the pot down and bounding over with open arms to meet you. You can’t contain a small smile at the sight of him. He puts a meaty hand on your shoulder in greeting, chuckling at you and ruffling your hair just a bit. You don’t mind, you hadn’t bothered to style your hair today so it’s a wavy mop on your head, and even if you had done the usual routine, you don’t think Mr. O’Callaghan could ever bother you. He smelled like old spice aftershave and whiskey. Just like your Papa.

“How are things, Mister O’Callaghan.” You ask, and he grins at you like you’re still a little boy.

“Oh, jus’ fine, lad. This old man is still gettin’ along jus’ fine. And how is the littlest Amp’ra holdin’ up, then?”

“Oh, alright.”

His eyebrows furrow, and his one real eye gives you a good staredown. He sighs, smiling sympathetically as he gives you another pat on the shoulder.

“Look, lad, I heard about your Papa. S’been the talk a the town lately. He was a good man, and a damn good friend, is all I can say. I couldn’ bring myself to come watch them put ‘im in the ground, when I heard. I’m sorry fer yer loss. It hurts, don’t it? ”

You nod, feeling grateful for his words. Truthfully, no one of importance has really given you their condolences since you arrived. Your family has been tense and teary at best, and you hardly knew anyone who’d shown up at the funeral. But this was Mister O’Callaghan. This guy had known your Papa for years. He’d fished with him, he’d drank with him. He’d even come to your family’s place for holidays. This man was like family. You feel your chest begin to swell and lump begin to form in your throat. No. You can’t cry, not now. You’ve managed to only cry while in the solitude of your own bedroom since you’ve been here, and you don’t plan to embarrass yourself now.

“Thank you, Mister O’Callaghan.” You say, choking a little bit.

The old man pauses, watching you intently, before clearing his throat.

“Uh, tha’ sister a yours came in about fifteen minutes ago, she’s sittin’ o’er there.” He gestures in the general direction of the left half of the diner. “I assume she’s been waitin’ fer you. Look, if you need anythin’, we’re always your family here, lad.” He finishes, and heads back to the kitchen.

Gathering yourself, you head over to the left corner of the diner, where light pours in from giant windows. It looks out over a section of the beach where a few children are already building sandcastles and swimming in the ocean, and you again feel nostalgic. Lately, you’ve been wanting to spend your whole day in your room, but it’s sort of nice to be back along the water again. It reminds you of better times. Scanning the booths, you find your sister, who is not hard to pick out at all.

Feferi Peixes is wonderfully beautiful, even in mourning. So wonderfully beautiful, in fact, it almost makes you feel proud to be related to her, even if it’s only by marriage. Staring out the window, sunshine catches the highlights of her wavy, chestnut colored hair, which ripples down her back and comes to rest just past her hip, and the pieces framing her face are pinned back to either side with intricate metal barrettes. Her skin is warm and sun-soaked and she’s covered in freckles from head to toe, which somehow, although so ugly on you, look lovely on her. She must be coming back from a swim, you think, because she’s of course wearing bright pink goggles around her neck, and now you notice she’s also wearing her typical swim-wear. A bathing suit with pink flowers and a flowy, seafoam skirt that falls just to her ankles, where she’s wearing a dainty anklet and a pair of flip flops.

Of course, she doesn’t wear the skirt in the water. That would be ridiculous. She just wears that after she gets out, for functionality or whatever. At least, you think. You call out her name as you head over to sit across from you, and she pulls away from her melancholy gaze out the window, giving you a wide smile, as always. God, she is gorgeous.

“HEY, Eri-fin!” She greets you with a horrible nickname she insists on calling you that you only tolerate because she’s your sister.

Sliding into the booth, you give her a begrudging smile in return. You’ve been smiling a lot for the sake of other people, lately. “Hello, Fef.” You reply, rolling your eyes at her name for you behind your enormously thick glasses that everyone thinks are fake. “I didn’t know you were goin’ out to the beach.”

“Oh, I didn’t! I haven’t been to the beach in a whale, reel-y. I’m on swim team at school.”

“Oh?” You blink at her. You guess a lot has changed since you left for college, you don’t know why you expected different. Still, the thought of missing out on most of your family’s life in exchange for a year of accounting class kinda sucked, especially since you were always finding out new things about Fef’s college life.  
“Sounds fun. Anyone I know?” You ask. A lot a people from your highschool went to college in the next town over, you were learning.

“Oh, shore. Uh, do you remember John Egbert? I guess in all his self-discovering he finally found a sport that he’s good at!”

You chuckle. You remember an old friend of yours talking about how he had sworn off Senior year as the year he’d finally figure out a sport he was good at. Most of the time, though, he’d just looked like an asthmatic noodle. You’d never been great friends with John, but you were happy for him, anyway.

“Yeah, I remember. What the hell is he up to, then?”

“Biology, I think? I sea him floating aboat the labs sometimes. We’re like swimming science buddies!”

You sigh. You wish you hadn’t asked. Where you come from, there’s no such thing as science buddies, just...numbers colleagues, and lots of alone time. Before you can catch yourself, you’re spitting out a response.

“Uh, marine biology is a whole lot different from regular biology, Fef. You know that, don’t you?”

You immediately feel bad for being rude, but since you got home, she’s spent a lot of time either sulking or talking about all of her friends at college, and most of them are people you both used to hang out with in highschool. Sometimes you think you wish things were different. After all, if your father had had complete say in the matter, Fef probably would have been carted off to some esteemed marine biology school in who knows where. At least then she’d understand how you felt. Still, with argument after long-winded argument between your parents, it had been decided in your senior year that it would be more beneficial for Feferi to go to college with her friends. For you, however, your father had insisted on sending you away to school for accounting. He may have lost control of one son, you heard him say once, but he would not be giving up hope on his second.

Feferi stares you down with wide, brown eyes for a long moment, and then sighs, glancing down at her glass of iced tea. You pause, and then you take a deep breath.

“....Sorry.” You mumble. And you really are. She doesn’t deserve your sass. You’re just being lame about it, you guess.

“It’s ocray.” She mutters in return. Her expression softens and she’s making fish puns, and you know it’ll be alright.

At first, there’s an awkward silence between the two of you, but luckily a waiter comes to take your order, and after a while you have your own iced tea and the prospect of famous O’ Callaghans’ waffles is on both of your minds, blueberries on top for you, strawberries for Feferi. And after you’ve blown a straw wrapper into her hair, and shes blown one back, both of you brighten for the first time in a long time.

“So...tail me about Indiana.” She says after a while, giggling to herself, presumably at that ridiculous pun, and stirring her drink.

You grin. “Oh, it’s a magical place. Every girls midwestern fantasy. It’s dark, cold, and there’s a shitload a fuckin’ corn.”

She rolls her eyes, nudging your hand. “I manta Notre Dame, doofish.”

You open your mouth, but then realize that you’re not even sure if anything about business school is worth mentioning. You spend most of your nights studying, or drinking alone at bars that don’t card you. You can’t stand the people around you, who all act like they think they’re too good for you, but in a way you’re not used to. Back when you used to do more artsy things, people were pretentious, but it was in a stupid way where everyone knew you were all massive chumps. Now, you have to deal with people who think they’re better than you and can prove it with their brains. It kinda sucks.

“Fine.” You opt for a simple answer, but one glance at Feferi tells you she won’t rest until she has the full story. “...I mean, to be completely fuckin’ honest, it is kinda the worst. Everyone is always wearin’ a bloody suit, and it’s like, that’s fine, but at least be fashionable about it. Suits are made for galas and fancy dates, not findin’ ways to increase the sales rate of napkins or some kinda bullshit.”

Feferi giggles again, and you’re glad your pain can at least make her laugh.  
“And the worst part is that I know they’re all totally enjoyin’ themselves. There is no greater pleasure in their godawful lives than standin’ around with calculators and makin’ graphs and budgets and all that!” You continue. Now, it’s all rolling off your tongue.

You go on like that for a solid five minutes, about how dreary your new apartment is, even with all your stuff in it, and how you can’t find a job and you wish you didn’t your father wouldn’t pay for it all but you can’t really stop him, and how you haven’t been on a date since September and there’s no one interesting to talk to and you’ve been forced to use dating apps which are the worst, and the whole town smells like manure and everyone there looks at you weird when you walk down the street. Feferi just nods her head, giving you a look with her eyes that says she wishes you were always home, and you respond with your eyes that you also wish that you were always home. You’re pretty sure you could’ve kept going, too, except the food comes, and it looks delicious.

Mouth watering at the sight of these gorgeous, golden waffles, you both shut up and tuck in, pouring lethal amounts of syrup on top and wolfing the sugar-soaked breakfast down with a kind of ferocity that tells you neither of you have eaten since the eggs this morning. Conversation is light during this wild dissection of the food on your plate, just a few sentiments from Feferi about how it will all be worth it, and you wondering if it really will be.

You’re three quarters through your waffles, and about to shovel the first bite of the fourth quarter into your mouth when Feferi suddenly sets her fork down.

“Hey, Eridan?” She pipes up, speaking gently. Now you know it’s important. Quickly swallowing the huge mouthful of waffle you just took, nearly choking, you also set down your fork.

“Yeah?”

She pauses for a second, looking serious. “Dad..Dad’s letting you drop out of business school, so you can do art.”

Your eyes widen. Did you hear your sister right?

“Sorry..” You apologize, shaking your head, “what did you say?”

It seems like she’s been holding in a smile, now, and it spreads from ear to ear, shining and she fights to contain bubbly laughter.

“I said you’re dropping out of business school. You’re coming to school with me next term!”

Your jaw drops. This is the best news you have heard in a long time.

 

* * *

 

====> Be the King of the Couch

Your name is Sollux Captor, and you’ve never been partial to January. It was kind of a shit month, in your opinion. With no holidays to mark it with any monetary importance to you, January kind of seemed like a terrible thirty-one bonus days of suffering, sandwiched in between December and February specifically to make room for time to drag on as you wait for the next term of school to start and slip slowly into the throes of seasonal depression. And the only escapism to be found was in games you’ve played a million times since Christmas, or watching chick flicks with your roommate. Most of the time, you opted for the former. Even if you knew the games like the back of your hand at this point, even if they offered no cultural or personal improvements on your life, they usually appealed more to you than this mind-numbing Adam Sandler horseshit.

But today you’d been off your guard, and somehow, KK cajoled you into watching this shitfest of an excuse for a film by preying on your base urges, like some kind of sick, manipulative monster.

Not really. You are actually kind of grateful to him. After all, he is feeding you, and you doubt you would have eaten otherwise. Not only is there nothing in your fridge but six bottles of redpop Faygo and trays upon trays of half-eaten pastries that you won’t touch, you haven’t been feeling like eating lately, anyways. So, as you sink deep into the crease of the couch cushions, stuffing your face with greasy cheese and pepperoni, you can’t say you have many regrets.

“Enjoying being a humongous fucking leech, Captor?” Karkat deadpans  
suddenly, breaking his glassy-eyed attention to the giant screen he’d taken the liberty of setting up in your living room. “I better start to see some groveling pretty damn soon or I’m cutting you off, you shit-slinging nookmuncher.”

You snort. “Ah, yeth. How will I ever repay you, O great and magnanimous Karkat. You, grathiouthly gifting me thith thix dollar beacon of cheethy hope. How would I, a lowly hermit, thurvive without your untempered generothity?” You dramatically recite. You’ve been doing this kind of thing by rote, lately. And, even if you’re sarcastic about it, both of you know you wouldn’t be shit without Karkat. For a college freshman, the guy is pretty well off. He works this awesome paid internship at the hospital, and even though he has to put up with the night shift, it’s worth it for the major bank he reels in every month.

You, however, are still working weekends at the Tech Emporium, otherwise known as actual hell on Earth. You never thought computers would ever disinterest you so much, but since October, the strip mall repair store has repeatedly tested your faith in humanity. And for minimum wage, sometimes you really don’t think it’s worth it. Between stupid teenagers who have never fixed a thing in their life, and middle aged soccer moms with zero patience, there is always plenty of shit to drive you up the fucking wall. But it pays the bills. Barely.

“Thank you, thank you. I know, I’m wonderful. Actually, Captor, I am practically a fucking god. Your entire livelihood rests under my tiny baby finger. I hope you know that.” He jokes, scarfing down his second piece of pizza. “Just be glad I boon the bare minimum of one movie per month, or you would be nips deep in non-stop physicality and sappy romanticism every day for the next three years of your life.”

“Yeah, yeah. What do you want? A thrine? A candle with your fathe on it?”

He punches your shoulder, rolling his eyes and groaning. “Actually, all I really want is for you to pay maybe one ounce of attention to the beautiful Odyssey of romance unfolding before your eyes.”

“I dunno if I’d call ‘Fifty Firtht Dateth’ an Odythey of romance. Itth more of a little golden book of dull thentimenth.” You retort, but still start watching again. Karkat gasps loudly.

“You take that back.”  
“Never. Thereth no rule againtht banter.”

Karkat narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he has no response. There were signed terms to this agreement, and there is nothing in the contract that says you can’t complain. This is a matter of the law now.

 

Still, he gets his revenge about five minutes later when all the pent up rage and aggression inside of him manifests itself in the form of a screeching, rambling description of all the qualities of ‘Fifty First Dates,’ which make it a testament to the romance genre, and it is all you can do to bite back a snicker.

After that, you’re pretty much silent, save for a few taunts here and there. It’s not the worst movie, and after a while you start to see what Karkat means. Just a little. Eventually, Karkat loses interest again and takes another piece of pizza, turning to face you.

“So...have you talked to cancerously happy demon of joy lately?” He asks. God, Karkat is like a moth to gossip.

“Nope.” You and Feferi haven’t spoken a word since new years, to be honest. Exams happened at the beginning of the month, and most of your friends spent the past week of free-time doing absolutely fucking nothing, so you can’t say you’re surprised, if a little hurt. “I don’t know what her deal ith, either. I usually thee her around town, even when we don’t have thcool.”

“I think she went home, dude.”

“That would be weird. I mean, I know it’th clothe and all, but ff hath her own apartment, kk. And thee wath jutht home for Chrithtmath. Why would thee go back again?” You ask. Feferi leaving is news to you. You would’ve thought she would say something if she was gonna go off the grid. After all, she’s supposed to be your...well, no. She hasn’t been your girlfriend since September, but you two were still on good terms, weren’t you? Huh. You sure seemed to go through this whole absent ex-girlfriend thingy a lot. Maybe you were just clingy. You can’t think of another reason she would ignore you, which you hadn’t even realized she was doing until now.

“Well, Egbert is probably full of shit anyways, but the guy is on swim team with her, and he told me she’s been hanging around at the pool, and then driving back up to her house, I guess.” Karkat rambles, wincing. You’re getting the sense that he has something else to say.

“Tho your hot gothip ith that my exth-girlfriend hangth out at the pool, thometimeth?” You probe, raising an eyebrow, and your concern grows as Karkat pauses the movie. Karkat is historically very against movie-pausing.  
“Sollux. Egbert also says that her grandpa passed away.”

“Bullthit,” you scoff, but feel your heart get heavier. “FF’th grandpa wath dead before the wath born.”

“Not her grandpa….um...her stepdad’s dad. He drowned or something, fucking fell off a boat. At least according to John.”

“Oh my god..” You’re shocked, and for a moment, you wonder why the hell she hasn’t told you. You know exactly what this is like. Why wouldn’t she come to you? Why would she tell John of all people? That kid doesn’t take anything seriously. Then you realize. That’s Eridan’s grandpa. Now you know why she didn’t bother to tell you.

FF always seemed overly cautious about bringing up her step-brother to you, and no doubt he was the only thing on her mind now. You guess you deserved it. You’d always been kind of an asshole about the whole ‘her living with the most pompous, insufferable fuckwit known to man’ thing. So maybe you shouldn’t blame her for that, but still. She probably needed consoling, and now she was getting with her dumb brother instead of with you. You briefly wonder where that asshole has been, anyways. You knew he’d left for college out of state, but the most you’ve heard of him since senior year were his frantic calls to Karkat every week. Not that you care, you just wish you weren’t totally in the dark about it.

“Thhit,” you continue, feeling guilty for the things you’re thinking. “That blowth.”

“Yeah, it blows. I bet fishfuck is devastated.”

“Ampora hathn’t called you either? He’th alwayth harathing you.” Even though the asshole was living it up in some other state, going to school with his daddy’s money, probably, he still managed to bother Karkat seventy percent of the time. You had no idea why kk put up with it.

“Yeah, I know. It kinda worried me when Egbutt told me. I mean, nothing against John...actually, fuck it, everything against John. They should be talking to their actual friends instead of moping around under a rock somewhere like depressed cryptids.”

This is why Karkat is your friend. He always reads your mind like this. As different as the two of you are, you find common ground in appreciating the importance of a good feelings jam. It kinda sucks when your feelings jam buddies don’t wanna jam about feelings.

“Yeah...at leatht they have eachother.” You reason. It’ll be alright. You don’t want Vantas to worry too hard. He has enough stress in his life.

“Oh please, Captor. Have you ever even fucking held a conversation with Ampora? He has the listening skills of a conch shell. I’m worried for both of them.”

You’re starting to not really feel hungry anymore, and you run a hand through your messy blond hair, thinking. Ugh, you really have to shower.

“Maybe I thould call her.” You suggest, finally.

Karkat clears his throat, shutting the pizza box and looking back at you.

“You know what, you’ve done your time. We have class in five days. You have shit to do.” He permits, shooing you away and picking up the remote to start the movie again.

Under usual circumstance, you probably would have stayed with him and finished the movie. You sort of wanted to know whether Drew Barrymore would ever be cured of her amnesia. But you can tell that Karkat is trying to preemptively quell your anxiety. He doesn’t deserve to deal with another one of your abandonment meltdowns about ff, so you nod, nudging his shoulder in thanks, and then say goodbye to Sandler forever. You don’t think you will really miss him or his ukelele.

* * *

 

 

Half an hour later, you’re dripping with water and you smell like head & shoulders, which is decidedly better than the stench of stale cheetos and misery that’s been following you everywhere you go as of late. You shiver, glancing at your clock and deciding in the end that 5:00 pm is not an unacceptable time to put on your pajamas. Plenty of old people put on their pajamas in the middle of the fucking afternoon, why can’t you?  
Karkat is fumbling around for his keys when you walk downstairs, pulling on a light jacket over his scrubs for the hospital, and a grey knit cap you think some girl he knows made for him over his huge, fluffy head of hair.

“Heading out early?” You ask, regarding his getup.

At first, he looks a bit alarmed, but then sets to pulling on a dirty pair of converse, muttering, “What does it look like, Captor?” and avoiding eye contact.

“Oh boy,” you groan. You would call him pathetic, but you’re not sure you’re much better. “You’re not going to thee tz again, are you? Thee broke up with you thenior year.”

He raises a finger, stopping you. “That was before she knew she wasn’t accepted to law school. Now, she’s going here. There’s no reason for us not to get back together.”

“I can think of plenty.”

“Guess who asked for your opinion. That’s right! Ding ding ding! Absolutely fucking no one!!!” He crows. Now you’ve done it. “You’re the one still pining after a girl who dated you for a month. Pyrope dated me for two and a half years, Captor. Trust me, there’s something there.”

“I’m not pining. I’m trying to be her friend, kk. The’th important to me becauthe the’th a good perthon.” This is like talking to a child. A child riding on a high of a romantic fever dream.

Karkat takes a deep breath, tying his laces with fervor. “But you would still take her back, wouldn’t you? If she wanted you to?”

He’s got you there. You probably would.

“Look, all I’m doing is opening the doors for her to walk back into my life, if she wants to.”

“More like the floodgateth.” You deride, adjusting your glasses.

“All I’m doing is letting her know I’m still open to seeing her. Is that a fucking crime? Because last time I checked, you are not an official officer of the California Love Police, are you, Captor?”  
“Alright, jethuth, don’t get your pantieth in a twitht.” You say, and Karkat settles down a little bit, going pink in the face.

“Uh, by the way. I’m not sure exactly when Makara will find it in his divine path to haul his ass back home, but make sure you child proof the place, okay? I can’t be sure what goes on at Nitrams house, but I definitely saw him trying to fit a bong into his backpack, and I don’t want him to break another one of the porcelain clowns...I mean, I do, but I also don’t want to be picking glass out of my foot for the next fucking century.”

“Will do.” You agree, nodding. Sometimes, it feels like you don’t have roommates at all with how infrequently the two of them are actually home at night. You assume they sleep here, but until you actually see one of them go to bed in front of you, you don’t think you’ll ever be completely sure. So, although you wish that a focal point of your life right now didn’t have to be moving 17 glass clowns to higher ground so your stoner friend doesn’t have to bury another juggalo soul in the backyard, it is a happy reminder that you have friends. And that is enough for you.

“See you at ass o’clock in the morning.”

“Eat shit, kk.” You call back, smiling to yourself as you rearrange the clowns.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who buys your food?”

You roll your eyes, flipping him off. “Bye. Get out.”

Karkat sighs, opening your front door and stepping outside, but not before screeching “DON’T WAIT UP!!!” Then, as per usual, he slams the door on the way out.

You sigh and head to the kitchen for a cup of tea, filling your mug nearly halfway with honey while you wait for the water to boil. You can’t have it any other way. Sitting down five minutes later with a cup of sleepytime tea and honey, you’re just about to give Feferi a call, but before you can, the marimba ringtone starts to sound and her contact pops up on the screen. She’s calling you.

You hold the phone up to your ear, speaking into it.

“FF?”

“You shore sound surprised to hear me, Sollux. What’s new?” A cheery voice asks your ear.

“Honethtly, nothing thince New Yearth.” You say tentatively, hoping she’ll realize she hasn’t spoken to you for two weeks.

“Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry! I’ve just been so glubbing busy!”

You smile a little at her punning, taking a sip of your tea. You don’t know exactly how long Feferi has been doing that, probably forever, knowing her, but the puns had only gotten more frequent since she got her weekend job at the city aquarium.

“Uh...I heard thomething about your grandpa pathing? I’m thorry that happened. That thuckth.” You thought you’d say something more meaningful, but you guess you’re not as much of a grade A wordsmith as you thought you were. You’ll be internally facepalming for the rest of the night.

“Don’t be. Life flows on, you know? Baysides, he’s only been my reel grandpa since sixth grade or somefin. I’m not hurting so bad.” She explained.  
You wonder what that’s like.

“....For the record, I altho heard an earful about Ampora. You don’t have to fill me in.”

“Oh, then you know the big news already!”

“Ith ed being emothionally dithtant really newth?” You ask, blinking. You’re missing something here.

“No, silly! I’m glubbing about Eridan transferring to our school!”

You freeze. “What.”

“Eridan is coming back to live here!” She repeats brightly.

This is the worst news you’ve heard in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan is excited and nostalgic. Sollux is fed up with the fucking clowns. Eridan is a fan of hot showers and self indulgence. It is very difficult not to stare at Sollux Captor.

Eridan ====> Be -----EXCITED!!!

 

For lack of a better word, you are pretty fuckin EXCITED. You don’t think you have never been “EXCITED” in your life, and frankly, you’ll probably never admit it. Fef has been hypin you up all week and she is probably pissin herself about it enough for the both of you. If you admitted anything past appreciation, she’d probably have a conniption of some sort.

 

Still, you gotta say, you’re a tad grateful for this unexpected EXCITEMENT, because it’s given you a reason to temporarily forget about the events of the past week. Over a course of three days, you’ve mostly been busy moving all your shit from your apartment in Indiana back to your childhood bedroom at your comparatively ginormous house. You secretly scheme about moving out once you have enough money saved up to pay for yourself, though. Even if it is grand and lavish and everything you fuckin love, it stopped feeling comfortable here a while ago. Fef has offered her spare room about a million times, but you just can’t bring yourself to stoop to accepting her hospitality. With your parents, it’s insufferable, but with Fef, you’d feel like a humongous fuckin leech. So for now, you’re stuck coping with your father and stepmother, who are at odds.

 

You’re still not sure how the inexplicable phenomenon of your father suddenly growing a heart even happened in the first place, but you’re sure that it’s responsible for the passive aggressive war of wits fef’s mom is waging on your father. Of course, you only know about this war because you are caught in the middle of it. Your father himself has hardly spoken to you except for a formal announcement about his decision. You don’t really give a shit about that part, though. That was just business as usual. You live in his house, he ignores you, you both move on with your lives. Although, when you had been digging through the attic for your old art shit, (easels, sketch books, boxes upon boxes of copic markers and watercolors and pastels,) you did notice something peculiar. A host of paintings from your Senior portfolio, along with your original acceptance letter to Feferi’s school had been removed from their boxes. And one of them, a painting of yours based loosely on an image of yourself and your grandfather fishing on The Orphaner, had been hung on a lone nail on the wall.

 

Whatever the reason your father had decided to trust you to succeed in your craft, you were definitely glad it had happened. A week from now, you’d be pursuing your lifes purpose once more. Three days ago, you would have never thought you would be this  happy. You seriously thought you were a goner there. But for once, everything is finally coming up Ampora.

 

You unpack the last box of your things and take a look around the nautically themed walls of your room, running a hand along the plum-colored bedspread. You remember the nights you spent in this room building pillow forts, always with imaginary, magical properties. Sometimes you built imaginary cars with your older brother, before he moved out and became a repulsive recluse you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, and that’s coming from you. Or sometimes you built castles with Fef, before she became your sister, or spaceships with your father, before the world got too serious for magic and make-believe and fakey fake nonsense like that. 

 

You remember poring over thick volumes at the bulky, wooden desk in the corner. The books about science and history when you were in Elementary school, the first Harry Potter book, textbooks for school, even that weird tomb from your wicca phase in the seventh grade. You shudder to think about that last one. You can’t believe you ever believed in such ludicrous poppycock. 

 

You glance at your drafting table against the wall behind you, remembering all the strokes of genius that happened there. There are scuffs of colors and ink and stained splotches where you might’ve spilled coffee, or maybe paint. 

 

You envision the card table you used to play Dungeons and Dragons on in the center of the room, between your closet and your bed. It’s not there now, but when it was, it was home to adventures beyond this world. God, you were a nerdy little shit. You haven’t even found any of that stuff yet. You wonder where it is. Hopefully buried where no one will ever find it. 

 

You take a look at the maps that line your walls, some historical, some fictional. You think your favorite is the landscape of Middle Earth, hand-drawn for you at your fathers request. There was a time when he bought you magic bullshit like that all the time. Now, all he buys you are watches and cufflinks. Not that watches and cufflinks aren’t super great and cool, but nothing tops Tolkien.

 

You glance at the space above your bed frame. There used to be a deep-set shelf and a tank full of fish, but it looks like no one bothered to keep it up once you’d left. Which sucks, because the fish in there used to be your pride and joy. You think maybe you’ll see if your parents still have the tank. For now, though, you just set a couple books up there. There. Now it looks a little less depressing. You silently pay your respects to all the fish that must’ve been flushed down your toilet. What a drag.

 

Feeling a bit heavier than when you first entered the room, you plunk down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. You are pleased to see constellations of glow in the dark stars shining down at you in the dim light. You forgot about those.

 

You missed them.

* * *

 

  
  


Sollux ====> Be HORRIFIED

 

Oddly enough, the worst part of your week  _ wasn’t  _ the disquieting effect of Feferi’s news about Eridan. No. The worst part of your week was waking up three days later, on a Saturday, to find the seventeen porcelain clowns hidden all around your house, each in a different spot. Just great. A moment ago, you were very professionally waking up early for breakfast before work. Now, you were pissing yourself over a grinning glass DOLL lurking in your kitchen cupboard. You are the picture of business.

You found the ninth one by 7:15, which had been peeking out from behind your shampoo, and you’re wondering when you will stop flipping your dick at the sight of these horrific things. It’s not like you didn’t know they were hiding.

 

You don’t even know when gz found the time to do this. You’re thinking it has to do with you putting the clowns out of his reach on Wednesday night, in preparation for another one of his weird, stoned-out-of-his-mind rearrangement rituals, but you don’t really think this is fair revenge. It sort of seems like harassment to you. Reckless endangerment of pals. You almost slipped in the shower. After the fact, you consider that maybe gz isn’t completely in control of this whole “motherfuckin’ messiah” worshipping thing after all. Isn’t that something that happens with occult bullshit? No, that’s stupid. You’re stupid.

 

Your weekend only gets worse from there. After you found the twelfth clown, you finally had to go to work, and forgot all about letting kk know there were evil jesters terrorizing your home. So, after a full days work of dealing with insufferable assholes with a brain the size of a crumb, you are delighted to check your voicemails to find an angry message from him that rips a hole through your goddamn eardrum. Now, apparently, it’s your fault for not putting the clowns high enough. You think about texting him that you’re sorry your child-proofing skills are no match for an adult with a kitchen chair, but decide that would only get you in deeper shit with him. Besides, he’ll probably be seeing tz tonight, and after that he’ll forget all about it.

 

You don’t see him at all for the rest of the day, but you do receive a text telling you that he’s most of the clowns and put them back in their proper place, and that he talked to Gamzee about it, but the guy was either tripping huge balls, or seriously had no idea what he was talking about. Both ideas terrify you, but you get less terrified when you come home to find gz asleep on the couch, covered in a blanket with a little sticky note with a heart drawn on it stuck to his face. You thank all that is holy for Tavros Nitram. What a guy. 

 

Trying to be quiet, you do some poking around in the fridge. Same old shit, except now there is a significant number of chicken mcnuggets boxes stacked on top of eachother. You’re glad gz is basically loaded, otherwise, you’d be pretty worried about his money going almost exclusively towards weed and food made for five year olds. You decide not to touch the nuggets. You don’t know where they’ve been. 

 

In the end, you settle on a package of beef flavored instant ramen you find in the back of the cupboard. No one will miss this, you’re sure. Anyways, it makes you feel fulfilled as a college man. You’re finally eating instant noodles in your bachelor pad, like college guys do. This is everything you’ve ever dreamed of! 

 

And it kinda sucks.

 

You take another shower tonight, even though you already had one that morning. You won’t have time for morning showers when school starts again, so it’s good to get into the routine. And a hot shower will probably relieve the tension building up in your neck, you say to yourself. You force yourself to believe these productive thoughts. You don’t think this ‘self-motivation’ thing is really for you. Once you’re out of the shower, you do a quick once over your hair with a brush, tug on a clean pair of boxers, dry swallow your sleeping pill, and crash onto the bed, burying yourself in a cocoon of covers. That’s enough of the world for you today. With the help of prescription drugs and the warmth radiating in the covers, the sweet release of sleep comes in record time, and you drift off.

* * *

 

  
  


You wake up to a call from ff the next morning, and the second you answer she’s already squealing like a maniac. You try to be annoyed at being subject to her excitement at seven am, but it seems like you missed your alarm, and you’re sure you would have been asleep, like, all day if this weren’t happening right now. 

 

“Okay, okay, calm the fuck down, ff.” You mumble, practically falling out of bed and pulling on your uniform for work while you put her on speaker.

 

“SOLLUX THIS IS SO. EXCITING!! DO YOU KNOW HOW EXCITING THIS IS??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW???” She squeals from the other line. 

 

“I hope you have a good reathon for thattering my eardrumth beyond fortheeable repair like thith. Theriouthly, they’re thtill ringing.” 

 

You pull on your khakis, almost tripping. You can’t see shit and you should’ve probably put on your glasses before you started this, but it’s too late now and you are no quitter.

 

“I’m just so!! Glubbing!! Happy!! School starts TOMORROW, Sollux!!! He’s coming TOMORROW!!! You probably aren’t as EXCITED as I am but this is a reel-y big deal and my goofball brother won’t even glub to me about it and he’s just been MOPING all week but I KNOW he is just...just CLAM-ering to get there! And I can’t!! Wait!!!” She rattles off incoherently, trying to find the puns to express her exhilaration. Your mood sinks a bit when she reminds you of the fact that Eridan will be showing up tomorrow, and that means she will probably expect you to be all nice to him, which you really don’t want to do. You were sure graduation would be the last time you saw him in your entire life, and now that the universe decided to punk you for the thousandth time, you’re not exactly looking forward to ff dragging him everywhere.

 

It’s not like you’re super into social events anyways, but you ALWAYS go with ff places, because somehow, she makes socializing more fun. She’s even been talking about doing something for Valentines Day, (otherwise known as the single worst time of year other than the month of January,) like some kind of sad, loner-fest, where all of your sad, loner friends get together and bitch. Or, the way she described it, “enjoy eachothers company.” And it doesn’t sound that bad, which is saying something because most ideas sound terrible to you. But you’re sure that now fucking Eridan will be invited and it will all be ruined with his awful whining and self-pity.

 

“Doeth kk know yet?” You ask, hardly paying attention as you fumble around for your glasses. They turn out to still be in the bathroom from last night.

 

“Yes!!!!! He said he was gonna tell you to be nice to Eridan but I’m guessing he didn’t? It was pretty late when he called me back, he probably forgot.”

 

You groan. “No, he didn’t mention it.”

 

Frankly, you’re not surprised he happened to forget to bring this up to you. What with all his dicking around with tz lately, you hardly think he can remember how to get dressed in the morning.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“It’th okay, i’m not gonna be a dick to fithfuck…..unleth he thtarth it.”

 

“No!! No Sollux!! Not good enough!! You have to pinky promise me you will hold back from your innate urges to verbally slam my doofus of a brother until further notice!!!” 

 

“Relaxth,” you tell her, regretting saying anything. “I pinky promithe I will deny my calling, even if he thtarth it, if that maketh you feel better. But I’m doing thith for you. He’th thtill a douche.”

 

“He’s a douche...but he’s my douche!!” She giggles.

 

“FF, that’th groth.” You pause, pulling on your shoes. You can’t seem to find your matching black sneaker, so you pull a white one onto your left foot instead. Maybe no one will notice. “But theriouthly, what if he like, walkth up to me and puncheth me in the fathe or thomething? I’m not even allowed to tell him to go fuck himthelf if that happenth?”

 

“Just don’t make him punch you in the face and everything will be fine!” She suggests.

 

“What if I don’t even thay anything. What if he jutht theeth me and dethideth to knock my teeth out for the thake of atherting hith dominanth over my inferior breed or thomething.”

 

“As much as you like to think he is, my brother is not the teenage version of Hitler, Sollux. I’ll keep his nefarious escapades in check!!” She explains, reassuringly. “But, for the record, if he did punch you in the face, you’d probably deserve it. You were kind of a meany to him in highschool! I can’t tell who’s to blame anymore for all of this bad blood, but don’t pretend like you didn’t have anything to do with it!”

 

“I didn’t do anything traumatic! Jutht enough to make him pithed off. He’th the one who launched a perthonal vendetta againtht me jutht for hanging out with you. Like, thurprithe, people get new friendth all the time.”

 

“...Not him.” She mutters. You feel bad. It seems like some of her excitement has faded away from the sound of her.

 

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” You say quickly. “ I’ll be a perfect angel to him. I will thuck up to him like a thuch a champ that he’ll be fucking flabbergathted into not hating me anymore and we’ll hold handth and thkip through a meadow of daithieth and be the betht of friendth.” Even joking about this makes you sick, but you’re gonna do it anyways because you’re loyal as hell and you want ff to be happy.

 

“I know you’re joking, but thank you. He needs this right now.” She sounds better after your vow of truce, and you feel like less of an asshole. “So I guess I’ll SEA you tomorrow morning! Oh, and have a good day at work!”

 

“You too.” You say, remembering she’s going to the aquarium today. You don’t think you could ever spend as much collective time around fish and children as ff does, but she always seems to enjoy herself there.

 

“Thanks!! Bye Sollux!” Before you can say goodbye back, she’s already hung up. You stick your phone in your pocket, pushing a glob of toothpaste out onto your brush. Sometimes, talking to her is exhausting.

* * *

 

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. A teenage girl brought her sixty year old dad to try and figure out what was wrong with his phone, and after an hour of uselessly heckling and bickering, she finally realized that the phone was just turned off. A cute girl your age bought a phone case. A mom tried to decide on an iPad while her two toddlers ravaged the store, touching everything in sight. You had to clean it up. Same as every Sunday. 

By the time you’ve ridden the bus back home for the night, you are too wiped out to even stand, but of course, when you step into the house and the horrible scent of baked goods hits you, you remember that it’s kk’s day off for the week. If you were still ten, you might call this day “Mandatory Family Fun Night,” but really, it’s just the night your roommates decide to join forces to torture you with cupcakes and melancholy music that reminds you a bit too much of highschool, while you all sit around and play board games that no one is any good at, and that no one ever seems to actually want to play. 

  
  


You kick off your mismatched sneakers, mentally kicking yourself for that stupid decision. Why didn’t you just wear the full pair of white shoes? You unceremoniously drop your jacket on the arm of the couch, heading into the kitchen, where gz wears the usual floral oven mitts and matching apron. You think someone gave those to you as a housewarming gift in the summer, but you can’t really remember who. You hope that whoever it was, they did it as a joke, because the things are truly horrendous. You would’ve never thought that Gamzee, in all his wild-haired, baggy clothed glory could look so much like someones grandma, but these goddamn oven mitts manage to prove to you every Sunday that he absolutely can.

 

“Heey, if it isn’t Sollux motherfuckin’ Captor..!” Stoner Grandma herself observes from over near the oven, setting a muffin tin full of cooling cupcakes on the stovetop. 

 

“Well, fuck me. We’d better take a goddamn picture, since these days the elusive Captor spends most of his time in fucking hibernation, or stalking through the trees or some shit.” Karkat adds cantankerously from a chair at your small table.

 

“Or like, maybe at a job, like a rethponthible adult? Chritht, it’th like you guyth think that just becauthe I take advantage of your on demand tv and free food that I don’t have a thdeady income? Who do you think payth the fucking billth? Thith guy.”

 

“Alright, smartass. But ask yourself this. Who makes the cupcakes in this family? That’s right. Our lovely wife here.” Karkat says, keeping a completely straight face. 

 

“Haha, you fuckin got it brother!” Gamzee chimes in, raising the spoon that he’s using to stir more batter.

 

“In other words, if you even try to escape to your hermit hole this time, I will have your ugly head on a stick.” Karkat continues, then offers a sickeningly fake smile, gesturing at the frosted pile of already cooled cupcakes on the table in front of him. “Cupcake?”

 

You give the pile a wary glance. Normally, you’d vehemently refuse, but it seems like Karkat has been supervising Gamzee’s baking tonight, so you begrudgingly sit and take one. The white frosting is thick and piped in a big, grandiose swirl, and it’s covered in shiny rainbow sprinkles, and for a second, you can’t believe you’ve been turning your nose up at the holy grail of miniature desserts for the past month of Sundays. Your roommate, despite all his cult-y, stoner-y faults, is an insanely good baker. But you remind yourself that you’ve been rightfully avoiding the possibility of foreign substances baked into the batter. You’re not really a weed enthusiast. Or an intoxication enthusiast of any kind. Even in highschool, you can’t count how many times you probably missed out on reckless teenage experimentation with shitty beer and boxed wine. You’ve never even had a sip of anything more wild than a monster energy drink or red bull. Once, senior year, Vriska Serket convinced you take a drag of her cigarette in a moment of rare bonding with her, but in all your asthmatic glory, you had been reduced to a coughing, breathless idiot for the rest of the day. 

 

You’ve just never seen a reason to put anything in your body that would fuck you up more than you already had to deal with. Anything that would disturb the rare tranquility of the ever-raging waters of depression and anxiety in your brain was basically off the table. Plus, even if it had happened twelve whole years ago, you weren’t ready to make the same mistakes that had killed your mom.

 

But mostly, around strangers, you just told people you had too many DUI’s or something, because that sounded way more badass.

 

Cautiously, you unwrap the colorful paper around the cake and bite into it. God, is it moist. Lost in the heavenly effect of sugar and chocolate on your sour mood, you forget to be worried at all. And when nothing happens to you within the next hour of forced association with your ridiculous friends, you come to terms with the idea that it might just be okay to trust them every once in awhile. 

 

After a while, it’s seven o’clock at night, and the three of you are sitting around an annoyingly complicated board game. You’re amused as you watch Karkat seethe, his face going red in frustration at the pages of unnecessary details to the mechanics of this game. Gamzee has already zoned out about ten times now, and he keeps having to groan in exasperation and repeat the rules, but you’re not sure anyone here understands them. Ten minutes pass, and kk is shouting while angrily pounding a small plastic piece against the board for emphasis.

 

“Karbro, can I ask a brother just one question?” Gamzee breathes, lying on the carpet and staring at the ceiling in wonderment. 

 

“WHAT?” Karkat barks in response. Gamzee has asked at least a thousand questions in these past ten minutes.

 

“Why can’t we all just enjoy being all up and basically family here...like..sit back and watch the mirthful miracles happening all around you once in awhile..all this love already happening here like crazy...why are you always trying to force shit all the time..” 

 

“Hmm, well, let’s see. That would work JUST FUCKING PERFECTLY if you PIDGEONHEADED DICKSCRUBBERS would bother to PAY ATTENTION to anything i’m saying!!!” He exclaims, the fire bursting out of him. Evidently, Karkats last nerve has been violated. But you’re still going to push it.

 

“Thorry, what wath that? I wathn’t lithtening.” You say, smirking. Time to watch the fireworks. If kk’s gonna have a temper tantrum, there is no way you aren’t going to make the most out of it.

 

“Woahh, are you even catching this, best friend? Our pal sollux is even losing himself in that mystical wonder..the messiahs are finally up and speaking to him through the ceiling..it is a motherfuckin’ miracle..”

 

“WHAT IS A MIRACLE IS THAT YOU TWO ARE EVEN STILL ALIVE WITHOUT MY ASS THERE TO HOLD YOUR HAND AND WALK YOU THROUGH IT LIKE SOME KIND OF DRIBBLING  _ TODDLER _ WHILE YOU WANDER OFF INTO THE SPARKLY, FANTASTICAL PLACE IN THE GRIMY FOLDS OF YOUR IMAGINATIONS.” He shouts. Flecks of spit are flying into the air, and he is gesturing violently, his consonants emphatic.  “IN FACT, IF I DIDN’T YANK YOU BY YOUR FUZZY BACKPACK LEASHES BACK INTO REALITY ON A REGULAR BASIS, LIKE A DOTING MOTHER RUNNING ERRANDS IN THE TOWN MALL, YOU BOTH WOULD’VE FALLEN DOWN THE DARK RABBIT HOLE OF YOUR FUCKING PSYCHE EONS AGO.” 

 

“Thomeone needth a nap.” You remark quietly. 

 

“My angry brother, all you need is a little bit of feelings time, trust me.” Gamzee tries to help, sipping from a bottle of Faygo. He’s not phased one bit by Karkats screeching. “You gotta let us help you right this spiritual wrong thats taken you over..”

 

“THERE IS NO SPIRITUAL WRONG, YOU OBTUSE FUCK. PERHAPS I DIDN’T GET MY POINT ACROSS EFFECTIVELY ENOUGH FOR IT TO HAMMER ITS WAY THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL, BUT THE ONLY THING THAT’S WRONG WITH ME IS HOW MENTALLY FUCKING INSANE I MUST BE TO HAVE WILLINGLY SIGNED A LEASE WITH YOU TWO CROTCHBLISTERING DIPSHITS!!! SERIOUSLY, SOMEONE CART ME OFF IN A WHIRRING CRAZY-MOBILE TO A FUCKING ASYLUM, WHERE MAYBE I MIGHT EXPERIENCE SOME MUCH EARNED SOLACE, BECAUSE FUCK IT, EVEN THE PIERCING NIGHT-TERRORS OF A THOUSAND UNWELL CHILDREN COULDN’T BE MORE EMOTIONALLY TAXING THAN THE BULLSHIT I PUT UP WITH ON THE DAILY FROM YOUR ILK.” He rants, and you take this opportunity to start packing up the ridiculous board game and pull out something simpler while he’s distracted. Ah, there you go. There’s a deck of cards on a shelf across the room. “AND NO, CAPTOR, I DON’T NEED A NAP. SLEEP IS ONLY A CRUEL REMINDER OF THE FACT THAT I CAN NEVER TRULY ESCAPE FROM YOUR DOLTISH, REPULSIVE BEHAVIOR FOR LONGER THAN EIGHT HOURS, SINCE I WILL INEVITABLY HAVE TO WAKE UP AND RELIVE THIS CYCLE OF RIDICULOUS CLOWN SHENANIGANS AND NUMBFUCK DEPRESSIVE ISOLATION AGAIN AND AGAIN UNTIL I AM SIX FEET UNDER.”

 

He takes a gasping breath, and then smacks his face into his hand, going completely silent for a while. All you can hear is Gamzee blowing musical notes with immense fascination into the opening at the top of his bottle. After several long minutes of awkward silence, he looks up again at your neatly dealt deck of cards.

 

“Go fish?” He questions, raising an eyebrow, and you nod, patting him on the shoulder.

 

“Aaand we’re back.” 

 

You knew he would be alright. The best way to deal with Karkat when he blows a rage gasket is to just sit tight until he recovers on his own. Truthfully, you didn’t expect him to go this far, though. There must be something else wrong, but you’re not worried about that either. He’ll come to you or Gamzee when he really needs to talk.

 

Sure enough, after your simple, relaxing card games are over and you’re getting out of the shower and heading to bed, you catch a glimpse of Karkat sitting in Gamzee’s bedroom, being coddled as he presses his face into Gamzee’s chest. This is one of those rare times you see the value in Gamzee as a friend, other than when you tasted his baking earlier.He’s known Karkat basically straight out of the womb, and he’s still never given up on him. Gamzee hardly ever gives up on anyone. So that’s why, even when you nearly shit your pants when you find another glass clown behind your bedroom curtains, you appreciate the dude. Just a little bit.

  
  


* * *

 

Eridan ====> Be as ready as you’ll ever be.

 

You have been careful to make no mistakes in guaranteeing a successful start to your morning. You, Eridan Ampora, understand the weight that first impressions carry, and you would prefer not to compromise any part of that just to cut a few corners. That is why, right down to the little numbers reading exactly “5:00” on your sounding alarm clock, your morning is going to be wonderfully flawless.

 

You wake up with the excitement still churning in the bottom of your stomach, switching off your blaring music. The sun is just beginning to peek out over the top of the trees outside your window, but otherwise it’s dark outside. You like that feeling, waking up before the sun. It feels like the only time when things aren’t happening, and you like being able to relax, so you always take your time getting ready in the morning. You’d say it takes about two hours for you to put yourself together, but it’s not like everything with miraculously turn out perfectly on it’s own. You need time to get it right.

 

You open the door near your desk into your lovely, lovely bathroom. Right. You’ve missed this too. As far as bathrooms go, it’s not huge, but it’s way bigger than the bathroom back in Indiana, which was dingy and cramped. No, in  _ your  _ bathroom every surface glistens. There is a large mirror above the sink where all your old things are lined up neatly, organized by function, and as you flip a switch on the wall next to you, bright lights flicker to life above the mirror, bathing the room in warmth. You place a plush towel on a hook and discard your pajamas on the floor, stepping into your shower. Where your one in Indiana was barely big enough for one person, you’re convinced a few people could fit comfortably in here. Not that you’d ever want more than one person. This place is for you and you alone. There is nothing better than this.

 

You let warm water from the showerhead wash over you, soothing your muscles. You close your eyes, letting yourself breathe

in the steam, and feeling the water soak your hair. This is a nice moment. Most of your showers lately have been kind of pathetic, by your standards. Cold, and only lasting about five minutes. Showers are supposed to be a fucking personal experience, and you will take as long as you damn well please this morning. No grandson-ly post-death type duties will get in the way. You won’t even think about that today. Today is about you.

 

You dawdle there, thinking about how comfortable and natural it feels to you in here. Of course, you aren’t as much of a freak about being in the water as your sister, but you’re pretty damn close. She likes to say you hate the water, but you don’t. You just don’t like sharing it with the rest of the world. Public pools are disgusting and probably filled with germs and diseases beyond your comprehension, and the beach is filled with garbage of many varieties, including the awful people that like to mill around there like they own the place. The water is just personal to you. The only people who deserve it are the people who understand how wonderful it is. Luckily, your house has its own pool. God, you haven’t even thought about that since you’ve been here. It’s way colder in Indiana, and you’re still adjusting to how early it gets warm here.

 

You reach for your shower gel, and in a second, the whole shower smells like vanilla and coffee bean. This is basically your favorite scent in the entire world. Vanilla is so simple, so elegant, yet sweet and full of warmth. You’d like to think that this says something about your personality, but you know damn well that isn’t true. If you were a scent it’d probably be sea brine and despair. 

 

By the time you step out of the shower, you are radiating relaxation. This is the best your skin has felt in ages, probably from all the scrubs you did in there. But it doesn’t stop here. The infallible Ampora beauty routine is just beginning. After sliding on your glasses you spend another fifteen minutes moisturising and then set about drying your hair. Once that’s done you spend a while fluffing it up with gel and product and all sorts of goop that is insanely hard to get out at the end of the day, but you put it in there anyways because it your hair will be horrendous otherwise. You have let this slide for the past week, but it is time to stop letting your greasy hair hang in your face like an emo music video from 2005 and shape up a little, goddamn it. You remind yourself to take it easy. There is no need to get this worked up about hair.

 

But there really is, you conclude, once it is swooped back into a perfect, voluminous arc. If you didn’t get worked up about hair, you would never manage to reach this esteemed tier of hair care excellence. You examine your roots, squinting at yourself in the mirror. The purple streak it starting to grow out a little, not to mention, it’s been turning more blue than your preferred striking shade of violet, lately. You’ll have to fix it soon, but for now its permissible. It doesn’t stand out too badly amongst the brown, anyways. Just enough to catch the eye.

 

After gawking at yourself like an idiot for an unnecessary amount of time, you finally start getting dressed. Again, taking a while. Eventually, you settle on a navy blue button down shirt, rolled up to your elbows, and a course, a purple scarf looped lazily around your neck. Well fitted black jeans. Immaculate shoes. Just comfortable, yet classy enough for a Monday. Perfect. You slip your messenger bag onto your shoulder, grab your phone, and bound down the stairs.

Your parents aren’t home, since both of them leave early for work. Coincidentally, they both have corporate jobs closer to the city, so they were probably out of the house a little after you got in the shower. It doesn’t bother you that they’re not here. Definitely not, since you’re obviously not some kinda kid on his first day of Kindergarten. You’ve been to new schools before, so you have no idea why your heart sinks a little. 

 

You eat your silent breakfast alone like a big boy, in your massive kitchen, and then you’re on your merry way. You are gonna be a fucking adult about this. Like you said, there is nothing that can ruin your mood. What did you expect, anyway. Streamers and a great fuckin banner? A huge cake that says “congratulations on having a sudden mood change for the better, you did it, champ”? You are being plain ridiculous. 

 

You pull your car out of the driveway, heading into the next town over, with only the upbeat stylings of Britney Spears on the radio to keep you company. At first, you can’t believe that it is 2017 and people are still listening to “Toxic,” but you start to realize after a moment that you’re humming along. Shit, if shitty pop music can’t bring your mood down today, maybe nothing can.

 

With that in mind, you also stop to get coffee. Fuck it, you have time to spare, and who’s gonna stop you? You’re Eridan Ampora, and nothing’s gonna fuck up your day.

 

But as you step inside the commons, going to meet Fef where she told you she’d be, you stop dead in your tracks.

 

How much of a bottomfeeding CHUMP did you have to be to believe that?

* * *

 

 

At first, you look twice. Maybe you can shake what must be a horrible hallucination out of your eyes. You had started off for where you spotted Fef, sitting by a wide window, on a big, curved, leather couch, and suddenly,  _ he’d _ appeared out of nowhere next to her. Maybe it was your imagination turning against you.

 

In fact, you were sure, for a second, that there were _ loads _ of people in the world with that exact annoying combination of features. That wild blonde hair, that angular face with the harsh jaw. That upturned nose, and the way those wiry, oval-shaped glasses slid down to the tip, probably on all the grease that was there. That lanky frame. The stupid complexion. But no. There was no other person like Sollux Captor.

 

You comb through your memories for all the times Fef talked to you about school. Not once.  _ Once.  _ Has she mentioned that she was still friends with Sollux Captor. Fair enough, she probably didn’t want to rile you up talking about him. But still, this was unbelieveable! Someone as vile and excruciatingly irritating as Captor was still lurking around, unchecked, and your sister hadn’t even had the common decency to mention it?

 

You swallow, stalking over to where they stand. You’re pretty sure you would have slumped off somewhere to go take out your frustrations on a brick wall, though, if it weren’t for the fact that Fef is your only hope at making it around today. Drawing near, you hear Sollux answering a question. Fef is clearly absorbed in whatever he’s saying.

 

“--really getting on my nerveth to be honetht, it’th like. Let it go, you overly-romantic thap. When’th he gonna realithe that maybe thee dumped him becauthe it wathn’t working out, not becauthe thee thought thee wath gonna go to Harvard. He hath to fathe the factth thometime! I can’t take thith any longer.” He finishes, huffing. Fef pats him on the shoulder.

 

“Aw, he’ll clam around eventually! You talked to him about it?” She asks, her eyes bright with interest. She always used to look at him like that. God.

 

You don’t hear Sollux respond, even though you’re lingering nearby like some kinda weirdo at this point. You’re thinking about highschool now. You’re thinking about all the times Sollux Captor snatched Fef away from you with his grimy, grabby fingers. All the times you were ostracized from your only friend just because she felt like hanging out with a detestable pig who couldn’t stand you. All the times you had to eat lunch alone and watch them talk, just like this, from across the cafeteria, blood boiling with jealousy. He was better, smarter, funnier. You had nothing on him. And God, was he a prick.

 

Yanking your thoughts back onto the crisis at hand, you set all dramatic entrances aside. Fuck it. If she wouldn’t bother to warn you about this walking, talking, shitbag waltzing his way back into your life again, you didn’t care if sitting down unceremoniously bothered Captor. You didn’t care if anything bothered Captor. He deserved to be bothered. So you do just that.

 

“Eridan!” Your sister exclaims as you plop down on the couch next to her, setting your bag down and avoiding looking at the eyesore now situated on your right side. “Hi!! It looks like you’re having a good morning.” She says, noting the coffee cup in your hand.

You try to tell her she’s dead to you with your eyes. It’s not working very well.

 

“You know what? I really am.” You muster, taking a sip of your latte. It doesn’t taste as good anymore. She gives an odd look, and then glances back to Captor, but continues her conversation.

 

Captor responds, and you glare at the side of his face. He didn’t even look at you. It’s like he doesn’t even know you’re there. Frankly, you were expecting a shocking outburst on his part, but this turn of events has thrown you for a loop. Maybe you were a ghost this whole time, like that movie you saw once. Surely, that was a more likely scenario than  _ Sollux Captor  _ shying away from the chance to knock you down a peg. You examine him closer, and wonder if it really is Sollux. No….it is. It’s gotta be.

 

Maybe he doesn’t care what happens to you so much that he completely forgot you existed or something. No, that’s ridiculous It’s only been eight months since the end of senior year. Plus, you’re Fefs sister. She probably mentions you all the time. You mention  _ her  _ all the time.

 

You find yourself tracing his outline with your eyes. He’s a tall guy. Much taller than Fef, a little taller than you, mostly because he has a long torso, which you’re not sure you’ve noticed before. If you had to estimate, your legs are probably about the same length. 

 

For once in his life, you think, he doesn’t look like that much of an utter slob. He’s wearing white chucks, and they only look a little dirty. Maybe they’re new. And he’s got a yellow hoodie that looks soft and it’s baggy in all the right ways--

 

Oh no. He’s looking right at you. He raises an eyebrow and you can see the reflection of light in his eyes, behind those glasses. One brown, one blue. You tear your eyes away hastily. Did you really just let yourself be caught  _ oogling  _ your worst fucking enemy? You really are pathetic. Your morning is getting worse by the second.

 

“You wanna picture, Ampora?” He asks, rolling his eyes in exasperation and smoothly turning his attention back to Fef. She glances at you, looking confused. At least she didn’t see you giving bedroom eyes to CAPTOR of all people, or whatever.

 

Yeah, you’re definitely not a ghost. And he definitely remembers you. So why isn’t he reacting? What is wrong with him? You expected something a little more cutting than the typical ‘it’ll last longer’ line, to be honest. Something more creative, something with the severity of the blows he made to your self esteem in highschool. Here you are, vulnerable, lying there like fresh, insultable meat, but somehow, Captor hadn’t seemed irritated at all. You wonder if this is some elaborate ploy to get a rise out of you, and if it is, it’s probably working. You probably look like some kind of gaping trout now, with your mouth hanging open like this. Your throat is dry and your face is getting hot. No. No. Why is  _ this _ happening?

 

You wish Kar were here. How come he wasn’t here. He was supposed to meet you. You haven’t seen him in forever. Your brow furrows as you remember that your  _ best pal Karkat  _ is yet  _ another  _ person who didn’t think it particularly prudent to give you a heads up about the fact that you might run into your ARCH NEMESIS at school. You wonder how many more people are gonna become dead to you by the end of the day. You were just on the phone with him. Sunday morning, talking about all of this. And you were supposed to just be cool with the fact that in a two hour long conversation about scheduling and anxiety about new classes, he never once thought to bring up the fact that the shittiest person you’ve ever met would be attending the same school as you?? Such mutiny. You feel disrespected beyond belief.

 

Sollux is mid-sentence when you hear “HEY ASSHOLE BRIGADE” from across the commons area. You look up, watching Kar himself dragging a giggling Terezi along behind him. Captor groans a bit, giving Fef a look. You all sure seem to be flashing a lot of meaningful looks at eachother. You wonder what he’s got a stick up his ass about. You haven’t been paying much attention to what he’s been saying, but he seems pissed off to see Kar with Ter. You feel bad for him, personally. Kar’s been trying so hard with her. At least it seems like nothing has gone wrong between them. Yet.

 

You think you see the barest of smiles on Kars face when he sees you, which makes you feel a little less annoyed with him for not telling you the whole Sollux deal, but it immediately turns to worry as he glances around the circle. You shrug at him, while still managing to look peevish. No kind of horrors have unfolded yet. Even if this whole situation is confusing you, you don’t see any reason to mention it right now. This nonverbal explanation is clearly not enough for him.

 

“Ampora. Captor. Peixes.” He greets you all respectively, giving a nod to each of you. “I see all hell hasn’t broken loose yet. What happened to armageddon? I was prepared, for once, for this shitstorm and now you’re not even close to being at eachothers throats? What the fuck gives?” 

 

“We talked about this, Karkat!!” Feferi warns. It seems Sollux doesn’t have a comment.

 

“How come everyone else here seems to know somethin’ I don’t?” You submit, raising your hand.

 

“Karkat you’re still holding my hand.” Terezi says quietly, and Karkat jumps, yanking it away. His face is turning a bright shade of red. Up until now, the tension had kinda made you forget she was even standing there.

 

You never really got to know Terezi Pyrope all that well, but she was Kar’s girlfriend for the better portion of your Highschool career, so you’ve met her a couple times. She’s alright, you guess. Also, kinda the biggest maniac you’ve ever been semi-friends with.

 

Today, and ever since you can remember, Terezi’s general look is “red.” At this point, you’re not sure if it’s a fashion statement or an obsession. She has ginger hair that just grazes her shoulders, which is basically perpetually frizzy, and big eyes behind her tinted red glasses. You always wonder if those are some kind of ridiculous daredevil reference, and you wouldn’t put it past her. Next to Karkat, the shocking red of the long wool coat she wears makes his dark, thin one look dull. She has a wide, obnoxious grin and she’s cackling laughing at him. You can’t see for the life of you why he still likes her. But he’s always had strange taste.

 

After a moment of mocking Karkats embarrassment, she turns her head in your direction. She ends up looking a little to the right but you give her props anyways. You’ve only spoken once and she already can tell almost exactly where you’re standing.

 

“Eridan’s here? Aw, Karkles, you can finally bitch to him in person!! You’re gonna make all your juvenile slumber party fantasies come true…” She comments, poking his arm.

 

“Oh, wow Kar...did you want me to paint your nails too? Braid your hair? That’s fuckin’ adorable.” You tease, letting a slight grin play on your lips. You forget how much you missed having these conversations in person. It more fun to be detested by your actual best pal when you can see him getting more enraged by the second. He’s glaring at you.

 

“Please ignore Terezi,” he says loudly. “She doesn’t have a filter, actually. It’s a huge tragedy. We’re actually doing a gofundme campaign to pay for her surgery. One day, we hope, she will finally be able to communicate in a way that doesn’t make people want to rip their own GANDER-BULBS out of their SOCKETS.”

 

“An inthpiring thtory.” Sol, to your right, mumbles, wiping away a fake tear. Feferi grins at him.

 

“But yeah. Eridan’s here. Thanks for that, dunderfuck musketeers, you ruined a sentimental and beautiful welcome speech that I was just about to give until you all suddenly started spewing private information told to you in confidence like some kind of malfunctioning shit sprinkler.”

 

“Thomething about the word ‘thentimental’ maketh me quethtion the credibility of that entire thententhe.”

 

Fef glances at her phone and nudges you. That’s right, you have to get going. You’ve already taken a handful of tours on this campus, when you were still deciding what college to go to, so everything is familiar, but you still don’t think you can find all your classes without her.

 

“Everyone, we have to go! But it was great seeing you all again. Eridan needs help getting to class.” She explains, tugging you out of your seat. You collect your things, finishing off the last of your coffee. She gives her loud goodbyes. You wave unenthusiastically, although you really are happy to be around this many people you don’t totally fucking loathe at once.

 

Even if that thing with Captor was weird.

 

But you won’t think about it. At least, you tell yourself you won’t, until you are walking out of the common building and Feferi gives you a look that says you most certainly will be.

  
Fuckin hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This one was super long, so it took a bit longer than I expected, but I swear the pacing will be more regular than this in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew the fanfic slump was coming. Pesterlogs are awful to format. Enjoy this short chapter while I get my shit together. Thanks for all your comments, as well!

Sollux===>Pester someone.

\--twinArmageddons [TA] began pestering cuttlefishCuller [CC]\--

TA: 2o contiinuiing that riivetiing conver2atiion, before we were 2o rudely iinterrupted  
CC: Oh right!!! I almost forgot about that!!!  
CC: I sea w)(at you mean, t)(ough! )(e is de-fin-itely angling for somefin s)(es not!  
TA: he actually had the nerve to briing you iinto thii2 the la2t tiime ii 2aiid anythiing about iit.  
TA: liike, iif you wanted me back would ii 2ay ye2, and that2 riidiiculou2 becau2e there2 a huge diifference and he know2 that.  
TA: ii mean ii would, but ii al2o know when to giive up  
TA: whiich i2 when the other per2on giive2 up.  
TA: 2o what iim sayiing ii2 he 2hould have giiven up eiight month2 ago.  
CC: Its kinda funny! W)(at wit)( )(im being a self-proclaimed ‘romantic’ and all.  
CC: )(e reel-y doesnt know as muc)( about this as he t)(inks he does.   
TA: hehe  
TA: ii gue22 none of u2 do, but he doe2 need to get off hii2 hiigh hor2e  
TA: whiich iis so hiigh, one day he wiill probably get kiicked off and diie from 2heer momentum  
CC: Speaking of )(IG)( )(ORS--ES…  
CC: W)(at )(appened back t)(ere wit)( --Eridan??  
TA: a2 much a2 ii agree wiith what youre iimplyiing, that wa2 an unnece22ariily fa2t 2egue  
TA: that 2egue barreled pa2t, one twenty miile2 per hour, fiire iinexpliicably jettiing out of the back  
TA: a2 the old lady 2trapped iinto iit fliips the biird iin your dirrectiion, both hand2  
TA: that 2egue wa2 a2 fa2t a2 it wa2 totally reckle22, were you waiiting to a2k that thii2 whole tiime?  
CC: GLUUUBBBB! COM---E ON!!! 38(  
CC: I )(ave been bot)(ering my dumb brot)(er for answers ALL DAY!!!!!  
CC: )(e keeps acting like he doesnt know w)(at im talking aboat. And )(e knows -------EXACTLY w)(at im talking aboat!!!  
TA: what are you talkiing about.  
CC: S--EA-RIOUSLY, Sollux!!!  
CC: One minute )(e is being )(is usual frowny mcgrumpface self, and the next )(e )(as COMPL--ET--ELY LOST IT!!  
CC: )(e was blus)(ing!! )(e never blus)(es!! It never )(appens!!!  
CC: W)(at did you do to )(im, because I am concerned )(e is broken.  
TA: fuck iif ii know.  
TA: ii kiind of queued up iignore mode before he even got there, 2iince ii a22umed he would fly off the handle liike the 2econd he 2howed up.  
TA: not to flatter my2elf or anythiing, he2 ju2t a drama queen.  
TA: then he diidnt 2ay anythiing for a 2olid miinute, 2o obviiou2ly ii thought 2omethiing mu2tve been mediically wrong wiith hiim  
TA: diid you know he can keep hii2 mouth 2hut for more than 2ixty 2econds, becau2e ii had no iidea.  
TA: anyway2, he wa2 2tariing at me.  
CC: ----------EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!  
CC: SOLLUX!!!!!!!!  
TA: ff.  
TA: no.  
CC: Y---ES!!  
TA: 2top gettiing exciited about thii2.  
TA: iit2 weiird.  
CC: Do you realize w)(at t)(is means!!  
TA: iit means jack 2hiit, iim not goiing to let you 2oiil my viirgiin ear2 wiith what we both know youre about to 2uggest.  
TA: ii have one comment, and iit2 that youve been 2pending too much tiime around np  
TA: 2peakiing of whiich, diid you tell her about the valentiine2 day iidea?  
TA: that 2eem2 liike her kiind of thiing.  
CC: Dont try to c)(ange the subject!!!  
CC: My brot)(er was getting all )(ot and bot)(ered because of you!!  
TA: whoop2, my viirgiin ear2 have been viiolated, and they would liike you to 2top, for the 2ake of my phy2iical well-beiing  
TA: ii will 2eriiou2ly vomiit all over the2e calculu2 note2, and iit2 not goiing to be pretty  
TA: all ii ate thii2 morniing wa2 a handful of cheeriio2.  
CC: ---Ewww.  
TA: now you know how ii feel.  
CC: Okay, fine! Maybe you are not in love at first sig)(t, but at least it means )(e t)(inks you’re cute!!  
TA: iim rapiidly moviing iinto breakfa2t ejectiion, pha2e one. you miight want to 2top now.  
TA: and that2 not what iit mean2 at all.  
TA: he probably 2paced out, or maybe there wa2 2omethiing on my face.  
TA: there are lot2 of rea2on2 for hiim to be 2tariing okay, thii2 ii2 a 2tupiid conver2atiion.  
CC: You’re being awfully de-fin-sive!  
CC: Maybe you have some oth)(er, secret feelings you’d like to discuss??  
CC: )(MMMMMM?????  
TA: ew  
TA: no  
TA: goodbye

\--twinArmageddons [TA] disconnected.--

CC: 38(

\--cuttlefishCuller [CC] disconnected--

* * *

You slam your laptop shut with enough force to make the kid in the neighboring seat glare at you. Whatever, its basically the same, boring lecture the Professor gives you every day. You don’t know why someone wouldn’t want an interruption to his horrible droning about U substitution, or whatever it was today. As far as you’re concerned, you’d be getting an A in this class with or without his more than an hour long explanations about the same basic concepts.

You’d thought that pestering Feferi would give you brief relief from the math coma you get sent into every time you step foot in this class, but alas, you can’t escape the bullshit anywhere you go. You just hope she doesn’t bring this up again. You decided you are really not interested in discussing relationships with anyone, especially not relationships that involve the most insufferable douchenozzle on the planet. Because those do not and will not ever exist.

You heave a sigh, glancing at the bulky plastic watch on your wrist. Forty more minutes of this hell.


End file.
